Lifestyle
Skateboarders, weavers, kite makers: A Smithsonian party for 'Indigenous voices'
Bolivian women skateboarders — wearing traditional garb — demonstrate their skills on the half pipe.
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It’s a rather unusual skateboard lesson.
Little girls are lined up to learn to balance on a board on a half-pipe ramp. The teachers are young women from Bolivia, in their teens and 20s, wearing traditional garb as a tribute to female strength. Their outfits do not seem as if they are ideal for skateboarding: Each skateboarder wears a beribboned bowler hat and a poofy skirt. Among the eager disciples is Poppy Moore. She’s only 2, she’s from Virginia and she’s brought her own helmet for her very first skateboarding experience.
The scene was on the final day of this year’s Smithsonian Folklife Festival. The theme: “Indigenous Voices of the Americas.” There was skateboarding and more: kite-making, marimba-playing, textile-weaving, singing and dancing. The Washington Monument and the U.S. Capitol framed the festival tents on a breezy, blue-sky July day.
Members of a female skating collective from Bolivia offered lessons at the Smithsonian’s Folklife Festival.
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For Goats and Soda coverage, we focused on the Latin American contingent since we cover countries of the Global South. As we interviewed the artisans it became clear that they aren’t just local talents. They reach out far beyond their homelands, touching hearts and minds — and even mentoring a new generation of skateboarders.
We spoke to some of the artists who shared their voices at this year’s festival. It was an honor to meet them and witness their creativity. And we’d like to introduce them to you.
Hats off to these hat-wearing skateboarders
In their white bowler hats and Bolivian pollera skirts, the Indigenous all-female skateboard group ImillaSkate showed off their moves at the Folklife Festival —- and also taught beginner tricks to visitors.
“Imilla” means young girl in the Aymara and Quechua language. The skaters, from Cochabamba, Bolivia, say they formed the skating group in 2019 and were inspired by their mothers and grandmothers to wear the traditional garb, along with long twisted braids.
Bolivian skateboarders get ready for a demo.
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“We inherit the clothing,” says Deysi Tacuri Lopez, “and also the struggle and strength that they give us.”
“We want a lot of young girls and boys to join in on skateboarding and at the same time, to recognize their cultural identity,” she adds.
Pamela Moore brought her family to attend the Folklife Festival and her daughter Poppy went to skate for the first time at the skate workshop.
Moore’s family is Bolivian but she was born and raised in Virginia. She was delighted to see the Bolivian contingent at the festival and to see her daughter skate with the group. She says Poppy, who turns 3 this summer, was very proud of her achievement.
Guys appreciate the skaterboarders, too. Aaron Davis of Washington, D.C., a member of the skateboarding nonprofit The D.C. Wheels, praised Imilia Skate’s ability to transcend cultural and gender barriers to illustrate the best of the skateboarding life.
“It’s a way of life, and I relearned that from watching,” says the 28-year-old. He was impressed that, even though the Bolivian skaters don’t speak English, they were able to share “the foundation” of skateboarding with folks so they “can go on and express themselves in their own ways with their skateboard.”
Along the way, there are skateboarding life lessons to impart, too.
“It doesn’t matter how many times you fall,” says María Belén Fajardo Fernández. “The important thing is that you stand up and continue trying.” — K.T.
A song of survival
We’re still here.
It’s a universal theme in song lyrics — remember Elton John’s 1983 hit “I’m Still Standing”? And “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child. And of course Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.”
This past Monday afternoon, two young men from Brazil’s Indigenous peoples sang their survival song. It was composed by the grandfather of Tambura Amondawa, one of the performers.
Tambura Amondawa (left) sports the bright yellow-orange feathers of the macaw that is their symbol of his clan. At right is Tupi Kawahin, who wears the deep blue feathers of his clan’s mutuanaguera bird symbol. Together they sang a song, composed by Tambura’s grandfather, celebrating the survival of their Indigenous community.
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The singers each wear a meaningful tiara of feathers — Tambura, whose last name is the name of his clan, sports the bright yellow-orange feathers of the macaw that is their symbol. Tupi Kawahin, from a neighboring clan, is crowned with the deep blue feathers of his clan’s mutuanaguera bird.
They blow into what look like wooden flutes but are in fact hollow tubes to amplify their voices and echo the sound of the wind. And they sing in their native language:
“The sun is going down and coming up. The sun is still rising. We are still here.”
For these men, the words speak of a life-and-death situation for their clans, who live on the Uru Eu Wau Wau land in central Brazil bordering Bolivia. In the mid-1980s their community had what Tambura says was its first contact with “non-Indigenous” people. These interlopers wanted the rubber and wood from trees grown on the Indigenous lands. They wanted the land, too.
There were conflicts, Tambura says. And the Amondawa people were exposed to diseases they’d never encountered.
Members of the clan died in skirmishes but mainly, says Tambura, from disease. He thinks the clan’s numbers dropped to about 20 people. “We suffered a lot,” he says.
But … they are still here. And rebounding, marrying and having children. No one knows exactly how many Amondawa there are now, he says — his guess is about 150. Tambura, 33, and his wife have three kids. The clan has lost some territory but the government guaranteed their right to traditional lands in the ’80s and ’90s.
Today, they farm and hunt to sustain themselves. And their immune systems are able to fight off diseases, aided by vaccines — the Brazilian government has made vaccination of Indigenous people a priority. Tambura boasts that he’s even had the COVID vaccine.
As he describes the clan’s life, Tambura mentions a recent leader who was a woman. I say that’s a progressive sign. He says matter-of-factly that she was the smartest person in the village — “that’s how leaders are chosen — who knows best.”
His grandfather who wrote the song he sang is proud that Tambura sings it but was a bit worried when Tambura took off for Washington, D.C., to head to the festival in faraway Washington, D.C. “He doesn’t like his family to go away. He likes his grandson to be there with him.” A universal grandfatherly trait.
An anthropologist is translating Tambura’s Portuguese into English during the interview. (She does not speak his Indigenous language.) She says she’s going to ask him a question herself — some people in Brazil criticize Indigenous people for heading to the hospital at the slightest sign of any symptoms of illness.
Does he think his clan is too quick to seek medical attention? “With what we have been through,” says Tambura, “we are very cautious.” -M.S.
Bobbin and weaving
It takes a lot of concentration to weave myriad threads into a textile of many colors.
“I’m better at dyeing,” admits Diana Hendrickson of Peru, who helps run the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco, a Peruvian city. Hendrickson, whose dad is American and mom is Peruvian, works to find a bigger market for the weavings.
Master weavers from Peru wear their creations as they demonstrate the art of weaving at the Folklife Festival.
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Part of the weaving contingent at the Folklife Festival, she inspects the big bubbling cauldrons of water where color is extracted from native plants – and crushed beetles.
The beetles congregate on cacti, she says. Women weavers used to harvest the bugs by hand. Now as weaving has become more of a business, bags of crushed beetles are sold at local markets.
The women, some of whom cannot read and write, learned to weave from older family members, says Hendrickson. They not only earn a living but also put children and grandchildren through school – although the economic crisis in Peru has taken a bite out of their income.
“We support ourselves with that work,” says Marina Maza Huaman. “Sometimes we make more and [sometimes] there are no buyers.”
Their labor is more than a vocation. “Our lives, our history gets poured into what we make,” says Hendrickson.
And they take great pride in their creations. Huaman is wearing a multicolored woven vest with … many buttons. How many?
“Eight hundred!” she says with a broad smile.
The magic of the marimba
A 16-year-old stands over a wooden marimba, wielding a mallet in each hand, striking the wooden bars to create a cheerful melody .Hollow mini-gourds beneath the keyboard amplify the sound.
Kevin Cabrera Sanchez, who lives in Virginia, was at the Folklife Festival representing his Guatemalan roots. The marimba is said to date back to the 1500s in Guatemala and in 1978 was declared the country’s national instrument.
Kevin Cabrera Sanchez plays the marimba at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in Washington, D.C.
Sanchez learned to play the marimba from a teacher who now lives in Guatemala and by watching videos. He doesn’t use sheet music —- “it’s very difficult to hold onto the music,” he says.
Like many musicians, he says that muscle memory is the key to his fast and fluid musicianship, with weeks of practice.
The xylophone-like instrument originated in Africa and crossed the ocean as enslaved peoples were brought to the Americas.
The wooden marimba is not your typical instrument, Sanchez adds. To keep it in tune, he says, the wooden keys must be shaved a bit.
The deft musical hands of 16-year-old Kevin Cabrera Sanchez play a tune on a Guatemalan marimba at the Folklife Festival. It’s the national instrument of Guatemala.
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Sanchez says he’s grateful to be at the event and excited to learn more about how different cultures represent themselves at the festival.
“I’m always open to new cultures,” says Sanchez. “It’s always interesting to learn how civilizations express themselves through art and music”
I ask for one more song and he gladly obliges, taking the music in his head and turning it into sweet and mellow notes that fill the Washington, D.C., air. “Do you want to be a musician?” I ask. The realist in him says that’s a difficult dream and he says he’s not sure he will pursue it. -K.T.
A kite is born
A giant kite is being born.
And it’s causing a bit of stress for Ubaldo Sanchez.
Ubaldo Sanchez is about to launch a traditional Guatemalan kite at the Folklife Festival.
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An artist from Guatemala who now lives in Virginia, he’s intently putting the finishing touches on a colorful, six-sided giant kite — a barrilete gigante — at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. It’s about 5 feet by 5 feet and is emblazoned with the theme of the festival — “Indigenous Voices.” He’s painting 20 symbols to represent the Maya calendar and mark the 20th anniversary of the National Museum of the American Indian. The museum is depicted in the kite’s center as is the Smithsonian logo.
When I visit him in his festival tent, he is painting a bright red tree of life.
Sanchez came to the U.S. in the year 2000 at the age of 16.
This painting, “Dance of the Deer” by Ubaldo Sanchez, depicts a traditional Maya ceremony held before hunting deer. The characters in the painting are Sanchez’s grandfather (at left wearing the deer head); his young nephew Kevin Cabrera Sanchez (also in a deer costume) and Sanchez himself dressed as a jaguar.
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Recognized as a gifted young artist in his home country and then in his new American high school, he has gone on to make not only kites but murals, sculpture, pottery and paintings. President Barack Obama selected one of Sanchez’s paintings, New Dawn, a portrait of Obama, for the White House collection.
As Sanchez dips his brush in bright acrylic paints, he explains that in Guatemala, giant kites are flown on the Day of the Dead, November 1, to send love and support to community ancestors.
He does finish the kite before the festival closing hour of 5:30 p.m., but there aren’t enough skilled kite flyers to ensure a safe launch. “We really have to have seven or 10 people to hold it when the wind is strong,” he says. But he does send a smaller kite soaring into the skies.
At the Folklife Festival, Ubaldo Sanchez painted Maya symbols on a giant kite honoring the 20th anniversary of the National Museum of the American Indian. Its building is depicted in the center of the kite, which is being donated to its collection.
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Though he’s been in the U.S. for over 20 years, Sanchez says he maintains strong ties with his homeland. Earning his living by painting houses and doing his art as well, he’s set up a fund to provide scholarships for kids in Guatemala. In 2017, the government honored him with the presidential medal called the “La Orden del Quetzal” (the name of the national bird of Guatemala) for his art and his community service.
And if I may share a personal note: I see on Sanchez’s bio sheet that he went to the high school in Arlington, Va., where my wife, Marsha Dale, for years taught English as a Second Language to hundreds of students. They’d often write her notes at year’s end thanking her for helping them learn the language they needed to succeed in their new home and expressing gratitude that she insisted that they do their homework.
I ask if perhaps he was in her class.
Ubaldo Sanchez’s face lights up with a big grin: “I remember Miss Dale!” He says he wouldn’t have been able to do what he’s been doing without his English teachers, including my dear wife. -M.S.
Correspondents of CBS’ 60 Minutes pose for a portrait in 2023. From left to right, they are Sharyn Alfonsi, L. Jon Wertheim, Bill Whitaker, Lesley Stahl, Scott Pelley, Cecilia Vega, and Anderson Cooper. Former Executive Producer Bill Owens sits on the far right. Only Wertheim, Whitaker and Stahl remain at the program.
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When CBS fired Scott Pelley on Tuesday night, the new 60 Minutes executive producer, Nick Bilton, told Pelley it was for insubordination at a staff meeting the day before.
The veteran correspondent argues he was defending the DNA of 60 Minutes and the integrity of its journalism.
The battle royale over the network’s most prestigious and profitable news program is part of a broader fight over the direction of CBS News.
And given CBS’s acquisition by a billionaire family whose business interests have become intertwined with the political interests of President Trump, it reflects a larger war over control of the media in the current moment.
That father and son, Larry and David Ellison, bought CBS’ parent company, Paramount, last summer. In January, they became co-owners of TikTok’s U.S. operations. Now they’re seeking approval from Trump’s regulators to buy Warner Bros. Discovery, the parent company of CNN.
A glamorous show shorn, for now, of most its stars
CBS fired Cecilia Vega, a correspondent, and Tanya Simon, the executive producer, from 60 Minutes last week. They are shown in this photo at the 2026 White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner on April 25, 2026 in Washington, D.C.
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But the specifics of this individual episode matter — for 60 Minutes, CBS, its audience of millions, and even the news business itself.
The program has been the most glamorous post in broadcast news. The correspondents are the stars of the show. And now, there are just three of them.
Anderson Cooper left last month, concerned over the direction of the network’s coverage. Last week was a virtual bloodbath: correspondents Cecilia Vega and Sharyn Alfonsi were fired. So were a producer and two show executives — including Tanya Simon, a longtime staffer who had stepped up as executive producer when her predecessor resigned in protest before the Ellisons’ takeover.
With Pelley’s ouster, only correspondents Lesley Stahl, Bill Whitaker, and Jon Wertheim remain. Now they are considering whether to resign, according to two associates with knowledge.
Their brand-new boss, Bilton, was previously a tech reporter for The New York Times and an investigative reporter for Vanity Fair. He executive-produced a documentary for Netflix about a couple accused of laundering Bitcoin and has been a producer on several other films.
Notably, he has no experience in television news.
Neither does Bari Weiss, whom David Ellison installed as the network’s editor in chief last October. The Ellisons also bought her center-right views-and-news site, The Free Press.
She has maintained that the network of Walter Cronkite needs a makeover for the digital moment. She has also contended for years that CBS, along with the rest of mainstream media, is too reflexively anti-Trump, anti-Israel, and too woke.
A rejection of CBS News executives’ overtures
The new executive producer of 60 Minutes, Nick Bilton, has been a tech journalist and documentary filmmaker, but lacks experience in broadcast news.
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Bilton attempted to set a conciliatory tone at Monday’s meeting — his first with the show. Pelley, a formidable veteran correspondent and former CBS Evening News anchor, wasn’t having it.
Pelley called Bilton unwelcome and unqualified. And Pelley said that Weiss was attempting to “murder” the program.
In firing Pelley on Tuesday, Bilton said the journalist had hijacked the meeting and rejected overtures to work constructively through their differences. (NPR obtained a copy of the firing notice.) Bilton wrote that Pelley’s “antipathy to the future of the show came through loud and clear.”
In his own statement late Tuesday evening, shared with NPR, Pelley accused CBS’s new news leadership of killing 60 Minutes‘ DNA and pushing him “to inject falsehoods and bias into a politically sensitive story” and “to include assertions that are unverified.”
The accusations, to which CBS has not yet responded, echo those made by Alfonsi and Vega, the two correspondents fired last week.
Earlier this year, Alfonsi publicly complained after Weiss held one of her stories at the last minute, and kept it frozen for weeks, demanding an on-camera interview with a Trump White House official that never played out. It ran, unchanged from the intended version, with additional statements from the administration tacked on to the end.
After being fired, Vega said in a statement obtained by NPR that her team had “experienced efforts to insert political bias into our stories.”
“Let’s call this what it is: censorship, both censorship and self-driven” Vega continued. “It is dangerous for the show and dangerous for democracy.”
Weiss previously rejected Alfonsi’s and Vega’s allegations. (CBS said Vega’s claims, for example, were “not based in reality” while expressing appreciation for her work.)
Weiss and Bilton say digital threat requires a 60 Minutes overhaul now
In a meeting this morning, Weiss said that Pelley chose his own path — that is, to be fired rather than to find a way to work through his concerns, according to attendees. The network and Weiss have not yet publicly addressed Pelley’s accusations of interference.
Bilton and Weiss say they respect the show’s traditions, its accomplishments and its legacy of enterprise reporting, extended interviews and visual storytelling. It rose in the ratings 9% over the past season under Simon.
The two news leaders say, however, 60 Minutes needs to be overhauled before it becomes increasingly irrelevant in the era of streamers and other sources of news, information and entertainment in the digital age.
Interviews with 12 current and former CBS News staffers, from producers to executives, suggest great reservations and suspicions remain about Weiss’ judgment and her ability to handle the prominent and even famous journalists on whom her division relies.
Weiss had initially sought to reinvent the CBS Evening News, dropping a two-anchor format that had sagged in the ratings. Cooper turned down Weiss’ overtures to anchor it and left the network altogether, concerned about her approach, according to associates. (They spoke on condition of anonymity because Cooper has not chosen to speak publicly on the matter.)
David Ellison became chairman and CEO of CBS’ parent company, Paramount, after buying it last year.
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The ratings have continued to sag under new anchor Tony Dokoupil. And some CBS journalists, including producers who have left the Evening News, have publicly accused Weiss of making editorial decisions driven by politics. She has rejected those claims.
The decision to take on overhauling two key shows — one listing, one highly profitable, both high profile — carries significant risks for Weiss and the network, even apart from other considerations.
But the Ellisons’ presence cannot be ignored.
When Shari Redstone was negotiating the sale of CBS’s parent company, Paramount, to the Ellisons’ Skydance Media last year, the network announced the end of Stephen Colbert’s late night show. He had been one of the president’s most biting and acerbic critics.
David Ellison also made a series of concessions directly to Trump’s chief broadcast regulator, Federal Communications Commission Chair Brendan Carr, gutting CBS’s diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives and appointing a conservative ombudsman to field complaints of bias against its news reporting.
Carr and other regulators approved the Paramount deal last summer.
The accommodations echo those made by other media titans.
Amazon and Blue Origin founder Jeff Bezos remade the editorial pages of the Washington Post, which he owns, into a far more hospitable zone for Trump at the outset of his second term. So did Los Angeles Times owner Dr. Patrick Soon-Shiong, a noted medical device inventor. Amazon and Blue Origin have multi-billion dollar contracts with the federal government. Soon-Shiong’s medical research firm routinely has patent applications up for review with federal regulators. One was approved Tuesday.
The Ellisons are hoping to win approval from federal regulators next month for their purchase of Warner Bros. Discovery in a deal valued at more than $110 billion. It would include Warner Bros. Studio, HBO and CNN, among other properties.
As Weiss routs CBS News’ old guard, the question of what role she might play at CNN — and what changes that portends at CBS — hangs over journalists at the two networks. The fate of 60 Minutes serves as a high-stakes case study for both.
Lifestyle
Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market
Kids’ vintage clothing sales are experiencing a remarkable boom at in-person markets and online, where prices for clothes for little ones have shot up on websites including Depop and Poshmark. Millennial parents are looking to outfit their kids in the clothes and TV and film characters they loved (or coveted) when they were kids.
The result? There’s a new generation of kiddos hitting the playground looking incredibly cool. Take Amari Case, a SoCal toddler who spent a Sunday afternoon this spring ambling around a vintage market in a West Hollywood warehouse clad in baggy jeans and a ’90s-era tee emblazoned with the “Dragon Ball Z” character Son Goku.
When she wasn’t scribbling on a Lorax coloring sheet, she’d been cruising around the market with her dad, Aaron Munoz Case, snapping up new pieces destined to make her the flyest kid at the preschool playground.
Neil Wright, from left, Kristine Nite Scalzo and Brandon Rosenblatt, co-founders of Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.
Showing off Amari’s new vintage satin L.A. Raiders jacket and tiny teal Grant Hill Detroit Pistons jersey, Munoz Case, who was also impeccably dressed, noted that while Amari went through a phase at about 18 months where she wanted to dress herself, eventually she gave up and went back to letting her dripped-out dad dictate her wardrobe.
Munoz Case found Amari’s first vintage piece at the Rose Bowl Flea Market and got the bug, going back every month to pick up something to add to his little’s wardrobe.
Trendspotters and researchers say Munoz Case isn’t alone in his quest. The market for kids’ vintage clothing has heated up precipitously over the last few years, perhaps hitting a boiling point in January when an Eeyore romper from the ’90s sold for over $3,000 on EBay. (It was new with tags, but one without tags still went for almost a grand about a month later.)
The thirst for tiny throwbacks is so popular that first-ever, all-kids market Elemeno — named after the “L-M-N-O” bit of “The Alphabet Song” and where Amari was toddling and shopping — drew 17 vendors and over 2,000 attendees over a single weekend in March. (There are plans for another Elemeno Kids Vintage Market pop-up later this year in New York, as well as plans to bring the event back to L.A. sometime next year.)
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1. Cameron Scalzo, wearing a vintage McDonald’s T-shirt from the ‘90s, and mom Kristine Nite Scalzo. 2. Cameron Scalzo rocks an Avirex jacket from the ‘90s.
Eye Speak Vintage’s Kristine Nite Scalzo, who co-organized the event and is opening an all-kids vintage store in Pasadena this month, says she fell under the kids vintage spell in 2020 when she was pregnant with her son. She’d always been a vintage shopper for herself, so she knew she wanted to pass the passion down to the next generation. She started filling up her son’s closet, and soon enough, she found herself selling her other finds out of a bodega in her garage.
She has a by-appointment space in Pasadena now, where she draws everyone from Rihanna’s stylist to out-of-town moms who make a point to stop by on their way to Disneyland. “The community around kids vintage has really skyrocketed on Instagram over the past six years,” Scalzo says. “We want to know who we’re buying from. We want to know that we’re doing good with buying secondhand. And it’s a hobby for people that can turn into a possible business on the side. Because knowing there’s a big group that’s interested in vintage kids clothes, you can always pass an item [your kid outgrows] to someone else or resell it.”
Scalzo says some parents are out digging through bins at the Goodwill Outlet looking for the perfect piece, while others are content to pay up for, say, a ’90s Simpsons T-shirt or a mini-size Harley-Davidson jacket. Scouring the racks at the Elemeno market, most pieces cost $15 to $40, though there were special pieces pulled to the side in some booths with price tags that could make a parent’s eyes pop. (Think $275 for a set of well-worn Spider-Man overalls from the ’00s or $150 for a pair of Cross Colours denim shorts from the ’90s.)
In kids and adult vintage alike, mint condition is highly valued. No matter the era in which they were raised, kids tend to be messy. They get strawberry juice on their shirts or scuff up the knees on their Bugle Boy jeans. Vintage kids clothes that look pristine are more expensive, and while plain kids clothes do sell, items with characters on them or cool prints tend to draw more attention and dollars.
Brandon Rosenblatt, another of the Elemeno organizers, says he’s had his eye on a specific kids “Back to the Future” shirt for some time, but notes that it typically sells for about $1,000. He’s partial to McKids clothes for his daughter, from McDonald’s short-lived kids clothing brand, noting that he’s even snagged her a vintage official McDonald’s-themed aloha shirt from Hawaii, something he says he’s never seen anywhere else.
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1. Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps. 2. Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.
Other collectors, he says, might be a little less obscure, leaning into mainstream characters such as Strawberry Shortcake or from ’80s and ’90s properties including “The Land Before Time” and “Rugrats.”
“A lot of millennials are having kids — like everyone who’s in their 30s and 40s — and they all want to put their kids in the same IP they grew up in,” Rosenblatt says.
“It’s the thrill of the hunt that gets everyone so excited,” Scalzo says. “Once you find that perfect nostalgic piece, you’re like ‘Holy s—,’ and you just want to chase that feeling again and again.”
Mia De La Rosa, a reseller who was at the Elemeno market, says that like Scalzo, she started buying kids vintage clothes when she was pregnant with her daughter, Liv, who’s 6 now, very into everything on PBS Kids and has a closet full of thrifted vintage garb covered in characters such as D.W., the annoying little sister from the ’90s show “Arthur.”
Everything Liv wears is “completely her style,” De La Rosa says. “She dresses herself every day and she gets compliments on what she’s wearing at school all the time.”
Other vintage-wearing kids — and in particular younger ones — might simply be sporting what their parents like or might just like the look of the shirt even if they don’t know what it’s advertising. (An 8-year-old boy at the Elemeno market, for instance, chose to wear a pristine T-shirt highlighting the ’90s Jim Carrey movie “The Mask” because it featured his favorite color: green.)
Derrick Broaster, a vintage enthusiast turned full-time reseller, says that while he chooses to put himself in clothes from the ’60s and ’70s, he outfits his two sons in clothes from the 2000s. (“How Bow Wow used to dress when he was a kid,” he says.)
Although his younger son tends to rebel against Broaster’s vintage picks, opting for whatever Spider-Man shoes happen to be in his eyeline, his older son has leaned in, letting his dad advise him on what vintage pieces could work and what would be the most stylish.
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1. Julian, left, and Javier Gutierrez show off their vintage clothing. Javier says his mom always tells him to keep his vintage outfits clean. 2. Mom Priscilla Guzman, clockwise, Dad Javier Gutierrez and sons Julian and Javier Gutierrez enjoy the vibe of vintage clothing. Guzman says she’s been buying and selling kids’ vintage since her oldest son was born eight years ago.
Rosenblatt says a good portion of what vintage finds he sees in the market now has returned to the U.S. from places in Central America and South America or Asia where those pieces were likely sent decades ago after they were donated or given away.
“There’s a real underbelly of this vintage game with rag houses getting access to bulk product overseas and letting people sort through it,” he says. “There are companies now that rip through 20, 30 or 40,000 pieces of vintage clothing a week. It’s a really interesting ecosystem.”
For many kids vintage sellers, finding their stock is just as fun and interesting as getting it back into consumers’ hands. “Anywhere we can find clothes, we’re there,” says Matthew Carlos, owner of Long Gone Youth. He started selling vintage clothes 11 years ago, when he was 15, switched to kids vintage at 20 and has spent the last six years scouring flea markets, websites and swap meets.
“The kids market is definitely growing,” he says, “but I still feel like we haven’t even gotten close to where we can go. It’s just getting popular now, but the more events [like Elemeno] we can do, the more it’ll go mainstream.” Even now, some major brands like Gap and OshKosh B’gosh have recognized the interest in some of their styles from the ’80s and ’90s, moving to re-release the looks in limited runs.
Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.
Kids resale is also leaning into streetwear culture. Rosenblatt, who worked in the streetwear industry, says that he’s noticed that a good portion of those interested in kids vintage — particularly, male shoppers — tend to be fans of streetwear brands like Supreme, Fear of God Essentials and Bape. At Elemeno, for instance, a good portion of the parents we saw pushing strollers were well-dressed dads seemingly on solo missions, something you don’t always see at kid-centric events.
“I just want my son to feel like I did as a kid,” said Justin Nguyen, while watching his toddler, Jayden, play with bubbles. “I want him to be happy, carefree and joyful, and I want to be able to spend time with him. My mom and dad were always working, even on the weekends. Now that I’m a dad, taking my son out on weekends to do stuff like this just seems like a blessing.”
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